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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26176333">Faith</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naelyn/pseuds/Naelyn'>Naelyn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Notes of a Laughing Knight [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU, Canon Era, Character Study, Conflicted Character, Everybody knows about Merlin's magic, Good Mordred (Merlin), Magic, POV Gwaine (Merlin), Season 5-ish, Torn between friendship and principles, druid camp, emrys - Freeform, faith - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:15:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,619</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26176333</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naelyn/pseuds/Naelyn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Your Merlin is the greatest warlock to walk this Earth, gifted with the powers to unroot entire civilisations if he so wished, and yet he chooses to pledge himself to an honourable king, son of a cruel man, and to conjure butterflies and fire beasts simply for the sake of stirring laughter in the hearts of children."</p>
<p>or,</p>
<p>in which the knights see Merlin interacting with the druids, and question the nature of this allegiance. Gwaine in particular is puzzled, and finds himself torn between his beliefs - refusal of authority and any sort of faith - and his love for his friend. Iseldir tries to explain the bond between the druids and Emrys to the knights; tries to explain that Emrys is so much more than just the magic he wields.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gwaine &amp; Percival (Merlin), Merlin &amp; Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin &amp; The Druids</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Notes of a Laughing Knight [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1852114</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>262</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Faith</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>He’s a natural, </em>Gwaine mused, watching as Merlin tilted his head respectfully to greet an elder druid man, before leaning towards his ear and, with one hand on his shoulder, whispering a few words there. <em>A natural at leading, and yet unlike any leader I’ve encountered before.</em></p>
<p>He was even unlike Arthur.</p>
<p>Not that Gwaine could picture either of them switching shoes, of course. It was clear that Arthur belonged in Camelot, sat on that throne with the same natural grace as the one he had when he fought alongside his knights and screamed, with blood on his face, <em>for the love of Camelot!</em> There was no man that Gwaine would rather serve.</p>
<p>But the more he stared at Merlin, and the more he saw how very obviously he fitted among the druids. How could he have been so blind? Gwaine had never questioned, never even <em>envisioned</em> such a thing happening before, but now that he witnessed it, he found that few things had ever felt more natural. Now that he witnessed it, he found that he could not picture his friend doing anything else. He even felt a slight tinge of his guilt as the thought of Merlin remaining in Camelot all these years instead of going straight to the druids, who had welcomed him with such eager arms. One might have thought that Merlin would have stood out, as he had in Camelot, but if he did, then it was in an excellent sense. Merlin was a <em>part</em> of this, an elemental part of this equilibrium of quiet joy and peaceful wisdom, and one would have to be a fool not to see it. The knights, on the other hand, could not help the feeling that they somehow upset the balance of this holy place, with their heavy chain mails and sharp weapons. Even <em>Arthur</em> seemed to feel slightly at odds here, from where he was standing, busy conversing with a couple of druids. He did his best to conceal it, and Gwaine had to say that he was doing a good job at it, but he had lived many years in his life among the nobles, and he knew the tricks now.</p>
<p>The fact remained: <em>they</em> unsettled the balance.</p>
<p>While Merlin – Merlin did not upset anything.</p>
<p>Merlin’s very presence, as lively as it might be, in comparison to most of the druids’ quiet solemnity, did not cause any upheaval or disorder. On the contrary; as soon as he had walked into the camp, all whispers of wariness and fear aimed at the knights had muffled, voices suddenly filled with warm longing rather than cool guardedness. Where the druids were stiff and grave, Merlin was soft and light, and his very presence seemed to soften the raw edges of the druids’ hospitality. Merlin did more than melt into the balance; he <em>strengthened</em> it. Something in him seemed to make the people feel safe, appeased, at peace. The contrast between Merlin and the druids was there for all to see, and yet there was nothing grotesque in it; what would have been grotesque would be Merlin walking there as though he were entitled to all this power. Because he did not. He walked naturally, and the druids acted naturally in return. Merlin wasn’t playing a role as Gwaine had seen so many men did in court. It all seemed so… natural.</p>
<p>It was a fascinating thing to see, truly.</p>
<p>The way all gazes had instantly converged to Merlin, and how even the elders had seemed to soften just by the sight of him. The way everybody turned to the young warlock, giving the impression of gravitating around him, and how Gwaine himself had difficulty not doing the same thing. It felt as though Merlin had the formidable power to pacify men’s minds and hearts alike, and all that without a word.</p>
<p>Here as well as in Camelot, Merlin was a rock, and them, all of them – they were just sailors, human sailors, poor sailors drunk to the melody of his voice and the beauty of his stories. Almost like an illusion, a spell, an enchantment. Because how else could one hope to explain the way all gazes had morphed from mistrust to respect in just the space of a second?</p>
<p>And yet, Gwaine knew that this was no illusion created by sorcery, no corruption of minds, no sly manipulation.</p>
<p>Long ago, he had learnt to associate all kinds of beauty to blatant lies. Long ago, he had learnt to shut his heart to the tales of arrogant knights that spoke of virtue and deed. Long ago, he had convinced himself that there were no more honourable men, save for the stories; convinced himself that all the honourable ones were dead, if there had ever been any. He had stopped believing in men who fought till their last breath by pure devotion, and now took pride into being gifted with what one would call a cynical mind.</p>
<p>But now that he looked at it – now that he looked at that devotion, that seemed to have come straight from a book of fairy tales –, Gwaine found that he was unable to look away. He never looked at illusions for too long; the lies made him sick, they were ludicrous and frankly appalling. He forbid himself to look at the beauty, lest he start believing, and be disappointed once more.</p>
<p>This reality facing him, though – it did not blind him. It soothed him. And it was everything that Merlin was: soft, kind, devoted, caring, loving.</p>
<p>And Merlin had never been anything but genuine.</p>
<p>So Gwaine decided to trust in the unbelievable scene that he was witnessing; he chose to force the voice of cynicism to keep quiet in favour of that of belief and faith. Merlin, he realised, made people want to believe. He dragged people towards him, made them feel like <em>more</em> than what they were. Gwaine himself knew that; he had felt the pull on the day that he had met Merlin, that pull that had made the separation almost unbearable to him. Gwaine was familiar with the pull, very much familiar; he had just never suspected that other people might feel the same way, aside from the knights and their king, of course. Which had been a bit self-centred of him, he supposed. Some part of him had probably wanted to keep Merlin just for himself.</p>
<p>Now was a bit late for that.</p>
<p>Merlin himself didn’t even seem aware of that power of his, that power of making people gravitate around him; he simply kept on acting as he always had, smiling, whispering, laughing. As easier as it would have been to pretend otherwise – easier to give into his once unwavering belief that all sovereigns were evil – and to tell himself that Merlin was just like any ruler, just like Uther, just like Cenred, Gwaine could not. He could not forget that it was his friend standing there, surrounded with druids who loved him, because he kept being reminded of it by Merlin himself. He kept being reminded of it by the way Merlin would rub his chin at times, probably considering a question, and by the way Merlin, at other times, would bite his lip furiously and glance at the ground, blushing in humility. Merlin was not acting unlike himself there. He was, on the contrary, acting very Merlin like. Non-Merlin like would have been Merlin bowing and whispering flatteries for someone that he despised, or walking with arrogance and no consideration. Every gesture here <em>was</em> Merlin-like, from the way he gestured while he was talking to the shadow that married his face when he was thinking.</p>
<p>It unsettled Gwaine greatly – to have his tendency to distrust rulers being confronted with this young man, walking naturally among druids who bowed in pure devotion. Of course, Arthur had already confronted his beliefs, but he had told himself that Arthur had been naught but an exception, a <em>different</em> ruler. And now, he found that Merlin was different as well! Found that Merlin, too, stirred such strong feelings in the hearts of men, and made them eager to bow and smile and cry for him. It should have been sickening; by rights, it should have been… and yet, it did not scare Gwaine half as much as it should have. Instead, it captivated him. Left him awe-struck. And this – this was what scared him. How easily he found himself trusting in the scene he was witnessing. How easily he wanted to <em>join</em>.</p>
<p><em>What could inspire such faith and devotion?</em> he wondered. <em>How does one become so loved, so respected, with the mere power of mortal influence? What makes this scene turn a cynical man into an enthralled one in so little time, and with so little means? How can this be?</em></p>
<p>It was all genuine, all unbelievably genuine… and all the more unsettling to Gwaine.</p>
<p>That’s why, when the druid man they called Iseldir came to them and asked if they had any questions, Gwaine snorted.</p>
<p>“Well?” He glanced heavily at the knights who were standing beside him. “Is nobody going to brush the subject?” Percival became red, Elyan contemplated his shoes with even more intensity, Leon kept his gaze firmly fixed on Arthur, and Mordred gave him a ‘are-you-an-idiot’ look. Gwaine rolled his eyes. “Alright, then. I’ll say it.”</p>
<p>Iseldir turned his attentive eyes on him, a slight, indulgent smile forming on his lips. “Do tell, sir knight.”</p>
<p>“First of all,” Gwaine began, “Merlin’s my mate and I admire him. Truly.”</p>
<p>At that, the druid smiled. “I have no doubt of your devotion for him, sir knight. He always speaks very highly of you – of all of you.”</p>
<p>“Right.” Gwaine bit his lip. “But, you see, here’s the thing. Why would you believe that? Why would you take his word that we are what he says we are, when experience has all but showed you otherwise? I mean no offense by that, truly, but – what I don’t understand is, you’ve been hiding for <em>years</em>. Hiding from persecution. Hiding from <em>men</em>, men like us. And yet you choose to take <em>Merlin</em>’s word – Merlin, who is much younger and probably with much less experience than you – that we can be trusted? How can the word of one boy, as bright and brave as he might be, be enough to convince a whole people that has spent <em>decades </em>in the hiding, to suddenly come into the light? How can the word of one man be enough? That’s my question.”</p>
<p>Contrarily to what Gwaine had expected, Iseldir simply smiled softly, his eyes taking in Gwaine’s no doubt passionate expression. “You wonder why we trust him so fervently.”</p>
<p>Gwaine nodded, glad to be understood. “Exactly!”</p>
<p>“Have you ever heard of <em>Emrys</em>?”</p>
<p>At that, Mordred’s head jerked up, eyes filled with instant, natural faith, and Gwaine snapped.</p>
<p>“See? That’s what I was talking about! This – this <em>faith</em>.” He almost spat the word. Then, processing Iseldir’s question, he acquiesced. “Yes, I’ve heard of Emrys. And I get it – <em>we</em> get it.” Gesturing to the knights, who seemed in adequacy with what he was saying, he brought the last of his thoughts aloud. “We get that there’s this gigantic prophecy – basically the prophecy of the century, innit? – bounding you to him and promising the return of magic in Camelot. We – we get that you’ve been placing your hopes in this prophecy for years, we get that there is nothing you desire more ardently! But – but what I <em>don’t</em> get, is how that can be enough. How a couple of words, as prophetic as one might claim them to be, can be enough to convince you to place your trust in a complete stranger. I mean, if I were you, I dunno if that would be enough for me, but I highly doubt it. After years spent fleeing a tyrannical king, I’d have trouble placing my faith in another leader, as good as his intentions might seem. I just wouldn’t <em>trust</em> anymore. Wouldn’t trust any form of authority any longer, no matter the shape it might take.” Gwaine glanced back at Merlin, who was now opening his palms for a young girl, and felt a sudden surge of affection rise within his chest. He shook his head, annoyed with himself. He could not let his feelings for his friend interfere with his principles. “My point is… it is one thing to narrate words from a prophecy to one’s children so they do not lose faith, and another thing entirely to risk all of your people simply for the sake of a few words. So,” he gave Iseldir a fierce stare, “either you’ve got incredible faith, in which case, congratulations, or there’s something you’re not telling us.”</p>
<p>“<em>Gwaine!</em>” Leon hissed at him, eyes narrowing in anger. “You can’t speak to him like that!”</p>
<p>“Nah,” Elyan retorted, finally looking up at Iseldir with heat in his gaze, “I agree with him. Now, I’d trust Merlin with my life, obviously, but you can’t deny that he’s young. Incredibly young and inexperienced. How can you be so sure that he is Emrys? Besides, I don’t mean to incriminate anyone, but you can’t deny the fact that he’s spent <em>years</em> close to the crown, close to Arthur and <em>Uther</em>. Many sorcerers surely view him as a traitor of some sort. How can <em>you</em> be so sure that he’s got your best interests at heart? How can you believe so blindly in somebody you scarcely know?”</p>
<p>“Emrys is <em>not</em> inexperienced,” Mordred growled between gritted teeth, tone fiercely protective, and Gwaine almost shivered at the power that suddenly radiated from him.</p>
<p>Iseldir raised a hand, causing Mordred to keep quiet. “It’s alright, Mordred,” he said softly. “They do not perceive the things that we do.”</p>
<p>“Emrys is noble of heart,” Mordred insisted.</p>
<p>“They never claimed otherwise. You should go join him, Mordred.”</p>
<p>After one last reluctant glare, Mordred finally conceded and walked away. Iseldir sighed.</p>
<p>“You’ve got to excuse him,” the druid said. “He gets very defensive of Emrys, despite how… tumultuous… their relationship was at first. He values their friendship very deeply.”</p>
<p>“I barely recognise young Mordred the knight,” Percival confessed, eyes following the young druid as he rushed to Merlin’s side, beaming at him and very clearly seeking his approval.</p>
<p>“His fondness of Merlin is admirable,” Iseldir nodded. “Being able to be one’s true self, freely, does tend to erase some boundaries. Emrys himself is happy, I can see it.”</p>
<p>Merlin was indeed beaming at a group of children, hands moving as he controlled the red-and-golden shape of a dragon that he had just conjured. The knights stared in awe, and Iseldir laughed softly.</p>
<p>“What do you see when you look at him, sirs knights?” His tone was soft, a bit distracted as he, himself, seemed quite taken by the vision Merlin was making. “A servant? Maybe even a friend. We, druids, indeed see Emrys. The Immortal. He who shall bring magic back to this land and allow the Golden Age to happen.” He sighed, and his expression darkened as he stared at the trees. “Morgana, on the other hand, sees a fatal enemy. Many see in him the protector of Camelot, the only thing standing, at times, between Camelot and ruin. The only wall that has not once collapsed. A saviour of some sort. A few ignorant men will see in him a boy, destined to serve and do nothing else. We all see different things as we look at him. Be it a threat, a liability or a god, we all make up some sort of mould we expect him to fit into… because it’s reassuring, is it not? To put a name on everything.” Iseldir turned to look at the knights, his gaze filled with gravity, and Gwaine thought that at this instant, he did look like the druid leader that he was. “But in the end,” Iseldir said, “when it comes down to it, all those titles that we give him turn to nothing in the face of who he really is… because he is so much more than all of these names. He is honourable, awe-inspiring, perceptive, and undeniably special… <em>and good</em>. That, is who he is, underneath all the titles and stories that like to clad him in gold. And all of us, we’ve got all kinds of expectations for him, each madder than the next, and he – he outsmarts them all.”</p>
<p>As Iseldir turned his gaze back to Merlin, Gwaine saw his eyes considerably soften, filled with something akin to tenderness, and he wondered what exactly the nature of the link binding Merlin to the druids was. Was it similar to that of a knight to his king? Stronger? Weaker?</p>
<p>“Morgana claims that he is to be her doom, and what does he do? He brings her back to life. We call him our leader, and what does he say? That he’s our equal. Young Mordred and all the other druids, they call him <em>my lord Emrys</em>, and he replies, all smiles: <em>please, call me Merlin</em>.” Iseldir chuckled, visibly amused by the memory of it. “And you, sirs knights, when you first met him, you saw a servant, did you not? Servant to King Arthur. But something tells me that you’ve stopped seeing him that way a long time ago. He defied all your expectations, as he defied mine. It’s what he does. Our Emrys here is quite the oxymoron, as I’m sure you’ve already noticed. Just look at him.” Merlin was manipulating the dragon with practiced ease, and the children seemed truly enthralled by the scene. “Would you believe it, just by looking at him? That he is the greatest warlock ever to walk the Earth?”</p>
<p>The knights exchanged a look that said, <em>no</em>.</p>
<p>“And yet he is. Your Merlin is the greatest warlock to walk this Earth, gifted with the powers to unroot entire civilisations if he so wished, and yet he chooses to pledge himself to an honourable king, son of a cruel man, and to conjure butterflies and fire beasts simply for the sake of stirring laughter in the hearts of children. Do you see what I mean? This man,” he gestured at Merlin with reverence that spoke of the pride he took in serving him, “is no ordinary warlock. Just like your King Arthur carries his crown as a burden, <em>he</em> carries these great powers with no other ambition than to do good.” His gaze came to rest on Gwaine as he slightly scoffed. “We do not serve him, <em>venerate</em> him, because of those powers that he holds, but because of the way that he chooses to use them. The seer Morgana is powerful beyond words, and yet it is not her we serve. Emrys, in spite of his young age, is wise. He carries the weight of worlds and destinies on his bare shoulders, and does so with humility and grace. At times, he seems godly, while at others, we <em>see</em> the man beneath it all. The man does not disappoint.” He smiled at Merlin, softly. “The man has scars, scars beyond count. Scars on his flesh and soul alike. Scars on his face, scars in his mind, scars in his eyes, scars in his heart. Scars that remind us that he feels just as much as we do, if not more. Scars that remind us that even Emrys may fall. Emrys is no mere dreamer; he is a <em>fighter</em>. The ghosts cling to his heart, and yet he keeps on walking. You may see boyish innocence as you look at him, but we see the wisdom. He is not the same boy as the one that I met all those years ago. His soul is older, and yet it remains pure.” His gaze turned to the knights, face sobering. “You wanted to know what linked us to him, apart from faith in a destiny? I fear that it is our suffering. Our people have suffered greatly. It may not seem like it, now that Emrys is here, but we are fractured.”</p>
<p>Gwaine looked at the druids more closely, and he began to see.</p>
<p>Underneath the respectful nod of an old man, he saw the grief, the weariness, the pain.</p>
<p>Underneath the shaking smile of a young woman, he saw the fear of lending her faith to another man.</p>
<p>Underneath the shiny eyes of a boy, he saw the need, clear and honest, to believe in something, in someone.</p>
<p>Underneath all the laughter and the smiles, all the embraces and the bows, he saw the cries and the screams, the hiding and the crawling.</p>
<p>Underneath the faith, he saw the frailty.</p>
<p>“Our faith,” murmured Iseldir, “keeps us together.”</p>
<p>The laughing knight abruptly realised that all of this was real. It was real, and realer than anything he had ever seen before. Their faith was real. Their suffering was real. <em>Emrys</em> was real.</p>
<p>This was no illusion.</p>
<p>Iseldir leaned towards him, and his next words were directed at Gwaine solely. “You see it now.”</p>
<p>Gwaine could only nod. He was rendered wordless.</p>
<p>“Your king,” Iseldir tilted his head in the direction of Arthur, “sees it as well. Has been seeing it, for quite some time, I daresay.”</p>
<p>The knights’ gazes converged to their king who, standing a few feet from Merlin, was observing the warlock attentively, watching as he whispered a few words in a child’s ear. Arthur, Gwaine mused, had never looked at anyone this way before. There was something in his gaze, something undecipherable. Something akin to what the druids had in their eyes, but different, too. Awe was present, of course, but it was stronger. Fiercer. With his eyes shining in unconcealed affection, the king seemed more at peace than he ever had before.</p>
<p>Merlin looked up, his eyes automatically seeking his king’s, and as their gazes collided, he beamed.</p>
<p>A smile was on his lips, gold was in his eyes, and magic was all around him, and Gwaine reflected that things had seldom felt righter.</p>
<p>He was beautiful.</p>
<p>They saw Merlin mouth a few words at his king, and the king simply quirk an eyebrow in reply, and for the space of a second, it seemed to them as though king and warlock were no longer here with them. As though, in their respective minds, only the other mattered. Gwaine could almost see the destiny linking them, could almost picture this destiny wrapping their hearts together, forever.</p>
<p>“But,” Iseldir sighed, with a slightly exasperated laugh, suggesting it was not the first time that this had happened, “your king is no good example. He is, after all, the other half to Emrys’s soul. Their connection is unique.” He sounded almost wishful, but also quite solemn. Clearing his throat, Iseldir continued. “However, the fact remains that your king saw how special Merlin was even before his magic was revealed. Before seeing the warlock, he saw the man. And the same comment could apply to us all, druids.”</p>
<p>This time, he looked at his fellow druids, one by one, the warmth in his gaze unmistakable.</p>
<p>“This is not just about the prophecy,” he began, his tone suggesting that this was absurd, “not <em>just</em> about the magic! This is about the <em>man</em>. Do not misunderstand me; Emrys <em>will</em> be remembered for centuries. People shall speak of him as a god, probably. But us few who knew him, us few who had the chance to speak to him – <em>we will know the truth</em>. That Emrys was more than just his powers.”</p>
<p>Then he looked at Elyan, and concluded:</p>
<p>“So, no, sir knight, we do not believe blindly in somebody that we scarcely know. Our beliefs, as superficial that they might seem at first sight, have roots. We’re not fanatics. We have suffered far too much to allow ourselves to believe blindly… and so has he.” He titled his head towards Merlin once more, and the knights stared in wonder as the dragon flew towards Arthur and bowed its head to him, before letting out a fierce hiss. “Emrys is no stranger to us. We are all wrapped inside his magic, including you, even though you do not seem aware of it. We are kin. Can’t you see how special he is? Light radiates from him. He is but one with nature; but one with the earth and the sky and the sea. Emrys, a stranger? We <em>know</em> him. We <em>feel</em> him. He is real. We do not venerate a god, good sir. Emrys is neither god nor man, and yet he is all that we need, and more.” Iseldir’s tone grew inspired as he drew Merlin’s portrait. “More than a god, more than a king. He is magic itself, and so much more than that. No words can suffice to depict him, for he will always find a way to surprise us. Emrys is <em>everything</em> – every laugh and every cry, ever birth and every death, every tree and every wave, every knight and every druid. He is all that we can imagine, <em>and more</em>. You think that we’re protecting him? But look at him, look at them all!”</p>
<p>The children were trying to get closer to their friend, giving the impression that they were seeking his protection, and the oldest druids themselves seemed at peace now that Merlin was here.</p>
<p>Iseldir simply laughed. “We’re not the ones protecting him. He could turn us all to dust, and wouldn’t even have to say the words to do it. <em>He</em> is the one protecting <em>us</em>, the one making us feel safe. Emrys is our protector, not the other way around. He is more powerful than all of us combined, and yet he cares little for any of that, cares little for what it may entail. <em>That</em> is why we have chosen him. People, centuries later, may claim that Emrys was gifted with powers stronger than any other man’s, and that so, by right, everybody bowed to him – but that is not the truth. People might claim that Emrys’s powers gave him a right to rule all men – again, that is not the truth. Emrys is not a conqueror; he is a protector. A guardian. In Emrys, there is a bit of all of us, and so how can we help but love him? Emrys,” he declared fiercely, “will <em>always</em> matter to us.”</p>
<p>The dragon had left the ground to fly over the whole druid camp, and he felt a trail of red-and-golden dust behind him as he went.</p>
<p>And Merlin – Merlin was simply kneeling there, on the ground. All the druids ached to touch him, to address him, to simply see him, and yet there was nothing in his gaze but humility.</p>
<p>He seemed like every bit of the man that Iseldir had depicted him to be, and even more than that.</p>
<p>Following their gazes, Iseldir smiled at how fascinated they already were.</p>
<p>“You were asking me why <em>we</em> love him? Why, sirs knights, but look at yourselves. You can barely take your eyes off him. You love him just as much as we do. I invite you to seek the answers in yourselves; it might prove a very instructive journey.”</p>
<p>Then Iseldir bowed, and walked away.</p>
<p>“I’d never thought of it this way,” Percival admitted after a few seconds, head bobbed down.</p>
<p>“They have such faith in him,” Elyan mused.</p>
<p>“Rightfully so,” Leon retorted. “Have you seen him? Him, and Arthur? It feels as though – as though it had always been meant to happen this way.”</p>
<p>“He is precious, isn’t he?” Elyan asked. “Precious beyond words. And we didn’t even <em>see</em> it.”</p>
<p>Leon and Elyan went to join Arthur, leaving Gwaine and Percival to stand there. When he felt a hand tug at his sleeve, Gwaine looked up to meet his friend’s keen gaze.</p>
<p>“I know what you’re thinking, friend,” the knight said gently.</p>
<p>Gwaine laughed nervously. “No offence, Percy, but… I frankly doubt it.”</p>
<p>Percival didn’t seem all that troubled by his words. On the contrary, his smile softened. “I’ve known you long enough to know what a cynical mind you pride yourself to be, Gwaine.”</p>
<p>And Gwaine just – let it all out. “It’s real,” he whispered shakily. “Their faith in him – it’s no mere illusion. It’s all real, Percival. I can <em>see</em> it now. The link that binds them together, that binds us all together – it is stronger than words can express.”</p>
<p>“And it scares you,” Percival softly said.</p>
<p>“<em>Scares</em> me?” Gwaine laughed self-deprecatingly. “Percival, it <em>terrifies</em> me! It terrifies me, because I believe it, too, and yet I promised myself, years ago, never to feel such faith again!”</p>
<p>“You did feel it, though.” The knight tilted his head in the direction of their king.</p>
<p>“Yeah. For Arthur! He was meant to be the exception, the lone exception, and now… now, I can feel this irrational faith surging inside me, and I can see it all around me, and it’s all so beautiful, and I – I can’t…”</p>
<p>His hand rubbing soothing circles in Gwaine’s back, Percival nodded. “I know. I know.”</p>
<p>“I love Merlin,” Gwaine said sincerely. “But faith I’ve always despised, because faith has always meant lies, and deceit, and plot.”</p>
<p>“But look at them. Look at their faith. Is it anything but genuine to you? Do you see anything wrong there? Anything unnatural?”</p>
<p>“You know I don’t. I feel like – like it’s the way it’s meant to be. If that makes sense.”</p>
<p>Percival brushed Gwaine’s cheeks with both hands, urging him to meet his gaze. “Then let that be enough for now. Allow yourself to believe, just this once, even though you do not understand. Listen to what your gut tells you, instead of what your head says. You’ve seen all sorts of evils, Gwaine. You’ve seen many liars. Do not let their memory rob you from the opportunity to believe again. Not everything in our world is tainted. Some things remain pure, genuinely pure, and strive to remain so despite the cruelty of men. You have to allow yourself to believe that <em>there is some perfection left to this world</em>, and that it is our duty, as knights, to preserve it. Our duty to make sure that some things, through the centuries, will never lose their worth in the hearts of men. And if this, around us, is the last bit of purity that there is to this world, then we will defend it, do you hear me? We <em>will</em> defend it, until our last breath.”</p>
<p>The knight’s voice was full of conviction, conviction he had seldom heard in Percival’s speeches, and Gwaine listened.</p>
<p>And then he watched.</p>
<p>Watched as the rest of the knights kept an eye on Merlin, their gazes full of joy and awe and laughter.</p>
<p>And he thought that maybe, just maybe, faith did not always bring suffering and betrayal with it. Maybe things were beautiful just the way they were.</p>
<p>Sometimes, faith was just about one young man, born a warlock and raised a servant, who had been gifted with the power to shake entire worlds, and had yet chosen to bring blue butterflies to life. Sometimes, it was just about one boy who, despite the fire in his eyes, was the first to stop the flames of ire from consuming this world and all the wonders that it harboured. Sometimes, it was just about one boy who carried the weight of worlds on his shoulders, and had a smile so bright that it made men forget about all the rest. Sometimes, faith was hope, and the gods knew that they would need it for what they were about to face.</p>
<p>And maybe Percival was right – maybe Gwaine had spent so much time among men who lied as easily as they breathed, that he had forgotten what real beauty felt like. Maybe there was so much evil to this world, so much corruption, that it got hard to trust in the goodness of things – for how could one hope to believe that there were good things in this world, things carved with the perfection that belongs to things that are holy, when they had faced horrors worthy of the devil? Maybe he had been so exposed to bitterness and grudge that he had forgotten the taste of what was <em>good</em>.</p>
<p>Gwaine looked at Merlin once more, and thought that this was a man he <em>wanted </em>to believe in. Merlin, Arthur – these were men he could place his faith into. The more he watched Merlin and the more he found himself overcome with an urge to protect him, for as powerful as Emrys might be, there were other kinds of wounds that even magic could not heal. His friend would need him. He would need all of them.</p>
<p><em>I’ll give you my faith,</em> Gwaine vowed, <em>and my protection.</em></p>
<p>He looked at Merlin, looked at his smile, and simply… smiled back.</p>
<p>“How do you think he copes with all of it?” he then asked Percival, as they were both walking to join the other knights. His eyes were on Merlin, and now that he could see the scars, some part of himself wished that he could unsee them. It hurt just to think of it.</p>
<p>“Just like we do.”</p>
<p>Gwaine followed Percival’s gaze to see Merlin who, for a brief instant, had stopped what he’d been doing to simply <em>stare at Arthur</em>. To simply stare at him, gazing at the king as though he were his everything. His eyes were filled with blatant awe, earnest devotion, and a tiny bit of melancholia.</p>
<p>Percival nudged Gwaine in the ribs, and when he next spoke, Gwaine could hear the smile in his voice.</p>
<p>“Faith.”</p>
<p>
  <strong>THE END</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi!<br/>So, I've actually no idea where this came from :') I hope you liked it anyway.<br/>Originally, I just wanted to explore the nature of the bond between Merlin and the druids, because I honestly thought it would be interesting to see what could motivate such faith (obviously, this was just my interpretation of their relation^^), but then Gwaine's beliefs joined in, and I really wanted to confront his cynicism with the sight of Merlin being practically venerated by the druids.<br/>Also, I absolutely love writing about Merlin's magic, and so this was a nice pretext to have Merlin create butterflies and dragons for children (because I think that this is absolutely what he would do). And I would have loved to see Merlin interact with the druids more! So, yeah. I wrote this.<br/>It was also quite challenging to write about faith, which was fun. And I also loved the idea of the druids seeing how much Merlin has changed, seeing how much wiser he's got, and accepting him for more complex reasons than just him being Emrys. Well. It was fun to write.<br/>Hope you liked reading this ^^<br/>:)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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